


winter's snow will give way to summer's warmth

by rories



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Relationship, Romance, This starts off hard and turns soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 23:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9041492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rories/pseuds/rories
Summary: Elizabeth is injured during a case, Red takes care of her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> for rosenrot923.tumblr.com for theblacklistsecretsanta
> 
> i hope you enjoy!!
> 
> set in some sort of nebulous season 2 timeline

It was supposed to be an easy job. The man they’re after isn’t even a Blacklister, but he knows the whereabouts of one, so Liz and Red are tasked with tracking him down. The building they find him in is a stereotypical hideout and Red scoffs at it as Dembe pulls the car up, headlights shining on a dingy green dumpster in front of the building. The lights cut through the light snow that’s falling, and Red prepares himself to step out into the cold. 

It was supposed to be such an easy job that Red has no problem with letting them split up to search the building, tossing out a last moment directive to meet at the car in ten minutes if no one had found anything. Dembe heads to the top floor and Red takes the bottom. Liz begrudgingly takes the floor in the middle, annoyed that she’s been tasked with this assignment. But she follows Red through the door anyway, one hand reflexively going to her holster. 

The building is dark and damp and Liz can see her breath in front of her as she heads to the steps. It's quiet, the scurry of rats the only thing she can hear as she climbs the stairs. This assignment is just supposed to be making contact, but this source is apparently fond of playing a game of cat and mouse. 

She can hear Dembe on the floor above her, his steps light, but the floor is covered in dirt so she hears the scrape of his shoes as he walks. She thinks if she tries hard enough that she can also hear Red’s too, but part of that may be wishful thinking. It’s been two minutes since they split up.

She pauses in front of a dirty window, let’s the moonlight guide her way and takes a moment to watch the snow fall. There’s piles of it against the sides of the building, but it’s already turning a dark and dirty color. She misses Nebraska winters, when the snow was fluffy and white and her and her dad would spend Sundays building snow families only for them to fall apart throughout the week and they’d have to start over again the next Sunday. She smiles a soft smile before turning away from the window but freezes when she hears the soft scrape of a shoe, this time much closer than Dembe could be, and her fingers twitch over the handle of her gun. Their contact is here, she knows it. She pulls out her phone to send a quick message to Red and softly calls out a greeting. 

“Mr. Isaacs, I’m Agent Keen. I’m here with Raymond Reddington,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. She hears nothing in return and stops her approach, listening intently, her breath slowing and creating a cloud in front of her face. She still hears nothing, not even the scrape of a boot. She wonders if maybe she imagined the noise, maybe it was wishful thinking that she would find the contact, get the information, and then head home to a bubble bath. It’s been seven minutes.

She’s about to send Red the text she never managed, turns her back to the grungy window, and blinks when the backlight of her phone is brighter than expected. The light from her phone makes the edges of her vision dark, so she takes a moment to lower the brightness before continuing. She gets as far as opening her texts when there’s another sudden noise and her heart is in her throat when a shadow slams into her from her left. 

 

\-----

 

It happens faster than Liz can think. She’s hit from the left, her breath leaving her body with a harsh whoosh and her phone clatters away on the dirt floor, taking the light with it. She grapples with her assailant, tries to find purchase against the floor, and lands a somewhat solid punch against what she assumes to be the guy’s head. He grunts and growls and she can’t tell if it’s the guy they were supposed to meet or not because the only light now is from the dirt covered window. 

She manages to roll away from the assailant, throwing out an errant kick at his legs before getting her feet under her. Her eyes are working overtime to adjust to the dim light, but she can see the outline of a person in front of her. She keeps him in her sights, moves left when he moves right, until the window is to her back again. He lunges at her, but she's ready this time and brings up her arms to block him. He grabs her shoulders, determined to get the upper hand, and digs his thumbs into her collar bones. 

Liz yelps and drops her shoulders, reaching for her weapon even as she raises her arm to stop the next assault. The man sees her move and growls, an unearthly sound that causes her blood to freeze in her veins. She wonders if Red and Dembe can hear all of this noise and are on their way to her right now. 

She knocks the guy’s hands away once more and for a moment she has the upper hand. And then he's rushing towards her, barreling at her with anger in his eyes, and then she's off her feet again. She braces herself to hit the dirt covered floor but it never comes. It's been nine minutes. 

 

\-----

 

It happens so fast, Liz isn’t sure if it actually does. In one moment she’s scuffling with an assailant and in the next she’s staring at the stars, muted in the city lights, but still shining and mixing with the snow that’s still falling. The glass from the window is still falling all around her, small pieces that sting and bite at her skin. She wants to flinch at them, wants to move and protect her fragile skin, but she can’t move, can’t even breathe. She wonders if she’s dying. 

 

\-----

 

Red makes it to the car first. It had been obvious to him that their contact wasn't there and he was already make a list of people he was going to have Dembe talk to. There had been no evidence of the man they were supposed to meet, only vague markings of the homeless that stayed there. He had heard Lizzy above him while he was in there and expects her to come to the same conclusion in a few minutes. 

He doesn't startle when Dembe comes around from the back of the building, just turns slowly and allows a small grin to grace his features. “Anything?” he calls out, though he knows the answer. Dembe only shakes his head. “I figured as much. Did you see Elizabeth?” 

Dembe shakes his head again and looks toward the building. “I found a back stairwell,” he answers in explanation. 

Red nods and turns to the building as well, tightening his scarf around his neck before digging his hands deep into his pockets. He's not worried, he's said ten minutes and it's only been eight. He glances around again, his face turning to disgust as he takes in the space. He should have known this was a dead end when they pulled up to this dilapidated building surrounded by dirt and snow. 

He starts to turn back to Dembe, leaning against the car, meaning to ask him about his plans for the next day when he hears it, a soft noise from above and then he's frozen in time. 

 

\-----

 

Raymond is prepared for a lot of things. He’s prepared to leave the country at a moment’s notice when things go south for him. He’s prepared to take down entire nations for the right price. He’s even prepared for the inevitable end to his empire and himself.

But he’s not prepared for this. 

He is not at all prepared to be standing outside of a building, casually discussing his next day’s agenda with Dembe, only to be interrupted by a muffled yelp from two stories up followed by the shattering of glass. He’s not prepared to hear the rush of wind and the loud metallic thump as two bodies slam into the dumpster in front of him before rolling onto the ground. 

He’s not prepared to see the sudden stillness of one of the few people in the world for whom he cares. He’s not prepared for the sound of absolute silence that follows, swallowed up by the sound of blood rushing in his ears. 

He’s not prepared for the sun to suddenly be snuffed out in the dead of night. 

 

\-----

 

Dembe is the first to move, darting forward as the last of the glass falls. Raymond doesn’t move, can’t move, as he stares at the bodies at the base of the dumpster. Her name gets caught in his throat, a strangled, gasping noise that chokes him into action. 

He staggers forward a step before he has to stop again. 

Her eyes are open. Her eyes, the brightest blue he's ever seen, are staring at the sky. He wants to heave, wants to scream, wants to move, but he can't. Her eyes are open and unmoving.

He can hear Dembe calling to him, watches as the man grasps for Liz’s wrist. He doesn’t know what the other man finds there, doesn’t know if he wants to know. He hasn’t taken a breath in what feels like a millenia and his whole body feels like ice.

And then she blinks.

Red’s blood sings with fire, his entire being lighting up. She blinks and struggles to breathe and all he can hear is the rush of blood in his head and her gasping breath.

It’s her second labored breath that stirs him to action. He can see that she can’t breathe, that’s she huffing out heavy breaths but can’t seem to draw in any air. He stumbles toward her, grateful that his body has allowed him to move again, and drops to his knees next to her.

He feels the glass of the window cutting in to his knees, but the pain is nothing to what he felt when she was so still a moment ago. The snow on the ground is seeping into the knees of his pants, but he thinks of nothing but her. His hand flutters near her hand, her waist, her neck, until he finally settles his large palm against her cheek. Her eyes find his and he can see the panic in her eyes so he starts to gently speak.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” he whispers because he can’t trust his voice. “Just breathe, breathe with me,” he continues and he takes a deep breath in. He can see her struggling to do the same so he repeats himself and takes another breath. He can’t help the sigh of relief when she manages to do the same, her hand tight around his. 

He rests his forehead against hers and whispers soft words as she coughs and takes in deep ragged breaths. Her eyes no longer hold that panicked look, but the fear is there. She's shaking, her body tensing and releasing in pain and he knows that the snow beneath her is seeping into her jacket. He needs to get her up and moving, but she’s still taking gasping breaths and gripping his hand. 

He whispers her name, a soft _Lizzie_ that’s close to her face and it comes out choked and ragged. One of her hands is wrapped around his upper arm and she tugs at it to try and pull herself up. He wraps his own hand around her arm and helps her, relieved when Dembe does the same on the other side of her. 

She sits up with difficulty, but she does it and her breathing is falling back into a recognizable pattern. Red’s heartbeat has slowed as well with very smooth breath she's able to take. She can see from where she's sitting the body of her attacker in the snow and she shudders in fear and relief. 

Slowly, she gets to her feet and with the help of both Red and Dembe, gets to the car. Red tucks her into the vehicle and shuts the door before going around to the other side. Just before he opens his own door, he takes a deep breath and sends a quiet thank you to a god he'd stopped believing in long ago. 

 

\-----

 

The drive to the safe house doesn't take long but Red uses the time to call the task force and let them know the stakeout was a bust. He watches Liz out of the corner of his eye as she rests her head on the window and smiles when she allows him to take her hand. He doesn't miss the slight movements she makes to keep her back from resting too long in one spot. 

Red and Dembe both help her up to the apartment and Red leads her to his bedroom where he helps her lay on her belly across the comforter. He leaves her for only a moment as he steps out to give Dembe instructions to go and fetch Mrs. Kaplan. He's gone only a moment more to grab and a bottle of an old remedy he'd picked up on his travels that's meant to reduce bruising. 

He hasn't seen her back yet and though he knows the initial fall was only a few feet to the dumpster and she had landed on her attacker before rolling on the ground, he's sure her back is black and blue. And he's vowed that she would never feel pain, so doing this one small thing will allow him a small amount of relief. 

He makes his way back to his bedroom and finds her in the process of trying to sit up. He says her name with a slight admonishment and hurries to help. She moves gingerly and starts to unbutton her coat. He waits until the buttons are undone and then helps her remove it one sleeve at a time. 

“I brought something to help with the inevitable bruising,” he says and gestures to the jar he'd left on the bedside table. “You'll need to remove your blouse, though.”

It's a sign of the pain she's in that she doesn't even argue with him, just gives him a slight glare before starting on her buttons. She's never been more glad that she wore a button up that day. 

He waits only a moment and then notices that her hands are shaking. Possibly from the cold or the fear or the sudden drop in adrenaline, but it's enough to keep from being able to under the small pearl buttons on her dark blue blouse. 

“May I help?” he asks softly, moving to kneel in front of her. 

“You'll have to buy me dinner first,” she replies and Red can't help but let out a bark of laughter. Her continued sense of humor is a good sign and he's never been more grateful. 

“As you wish,” is his only response before he takes the small buttons between his fingers. His smile falls as her hands drop to her lap and she sighs, her deep breath still somewhat labored. It takes him no time at all to undo all the buttons and then he's doing the same as before, carefully helping her remove the shirt one sleeve at a time. 

He doesn't avert his eyes and he's thankful he doesn't because he gets to see the flush spread across her chest before she huffs and turns slowly to lay back on the bed. He’s also thankful that he’d learned long ago to hold back his emotions otherwise the gasp he would have emitted would have been worrisome. 

Elizabeth’s back is a mottled red and purple with most of the bruising towards her shoulder blades. She must have landed higher up than he remembers, but he’s in no hurry to recall that terrifying moment. 

Red takes only a moment more to look over the damage before he runs a hand over her bare skin. She jerks in surprise and hisses in pain and he immediately feels bad for startling her.

“Sorry, Lizzy,” he says, his voice lower now, a quiet whisper in the room. “I’m going to need to…” he starts and runs his fingers along the clasp of her bra in continuation.

Elizabeth turns her head towards him without really lifting it and tries to shrug a shoulder. “Okay.”

It only takes a moment before the clasp is undone and he’s sweeping it to either side of her chest. He grabs the jar of medicine and scoops out a generous handful of the lotion. He rubs it between his hands to warm it before laying his hands high on her back. She never removes her gaze from him, but still twitches slightly when they land. 

Red rubs the lotion into her skin and sighs. “Lizzy,” he starts and she gives him a half smile. He wants to smile back, wants to reassure her, but he’s still seeing her lying so still on the ground. “Please don’t ever do anything like that again.”

Elizabeth’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Don’t...go into a building to talk to someone you said would be there?” She starts to turn, ready to start yelling at him, but he presses lightly on her back.

“No, Elizabeth,” he pauses and sighs, his head lowering so he’s not looking directly at her. “I thought you were dead. And I can’t go through that. I wouldn’t...Lizzy, I wouldn’t be able to survive it.” 

Elizabeth feels her anger dissipate immediately and she reaches for his hands with hers. “Red,” she starts, but she’s not sure what she’s trying to say. She understands he cares about her, he’s shown it on so many occasions, but she’s not sure she truly understood what that meant until now. 

She can see in his eyes the pain he felt in that moment. She’s still terrified about what happened, but the minute she could breathe again, she’d realized she was okay and had been too focused on the pain in her back to think anything else. But for Red, that moment had lasted longer than that, that he’s still thinking about it, about losing her. 

She still doesn’t know what to say, so she does the next best thing and moves herself over to one side of the bed and pats the empty spot next to her. She smiles softly at him as she does it and waits for him to catch her eye again. He gets the message and sends his own soft smile to her. 

He takes a moment to wipe off his hands, but then he takes her up on her offer and lays on his back next to her. They aren’t touching, but he’s glad to be so close to her, can feel her breath against the side of his face, a reminder that she’s alive and here and warm. His grin widens fractionally when her small hand slips into his and he turns his head so they’re face to face. 

“Thank you,” Liz says, softly, quietly, and her eyes flutter closed.

Red watches her face as she falls asleep next to him, memorizes for the thousandth time all the lines and curves. “Always,” he replies and presses a soft kiss to her forehead before falling asleep himself.


End file.
